


His Curiosity Did Not Stop There

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Confusion, Curiosity, Drinking, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Naive Sherlock, Teaching, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-30 11:48:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8531926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: There are some things about which John Watson knows more than Sherlock Holmes. One day the detective decides to learn more about one of them. And his curiosity did not stop there.  Six months ago, we wrote a story called "Curiosity". We got quite a few requests for a sequel, so we decided to keep it going. The whole thing's here if you need a refresher; if you remember where we left them, jump to Chapter 7.





	1. Surprising

**Author's Note:**

> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. We've got quite a few stories, and we invite you to get lost in them. **To keep up with our new stories, we hope you'll subscribe.**
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments. They mean a lot -- sometimes they inspire new ideas and works, sometimes they just make us feel all warm inside.
> 
> Thanks for reading and for being a great community!

John leaned through the wall of water, sighing as he let it roll off of his back, leaning against the shower wall. He moved his free hand down the length of his body, gripping his cock and stroking slowly. He hadn't done this for a while. He let his mind wander as he moved his hand, losing the sound of the water as he let himself slip into his fantasy. 

Sherlock was in the kitchen, waiting for his toast to finish. He'd found some marmalade but couldn't locate the butter and that had him quite annoyed. He heard the shower going and moved to the bathroom door, peeking through the crack. He could see John kind of bent over a bit behind the curtain and heard him making unusual noises. He pushed the door open and stepped in. "What are you doing, John?" he asked loudly. "Are you all right?"

"Sherlock! Get out!" John said, his hand moving away from his cock as he stood again. "Get out of here!"

Sherlock didn't like John's voice. It was angry, a serious kind of angry. "I just . . . I was looking for the butter," he mumbled stupidly. He stepped backwards and out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He went back into the kitchen where his toast had burned, so he dumped it in the bin and carried his mug of tea to his desk. He had an odd feeling. It reminded him of when he was a child and had gone just a step too far and knew he'd be in proper trouble when his parents found out. But he didn't understand what he'd done that was so wrong. 

John took a moment to catch his breath, but when he tried to continue he was too distracted, thinking about Sherlock bursting in. What had he been thinking? John finished his shower and got out, drying off and putting on his pajamas before coming out of the bathroom, going straight to the kitchen.

"Don't be cross with me," Sherlock said quickly when John came in.

"Why would you walk into the bathroom while I'm taking a shower?" John asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

"Because that's where you were and I had to ask you a question," Sherlock said honestly. "What were you doing in there anyway? You sounded hurt or something."

"Just -- don't worry about that. What did you need?" John asked.

Sherlock looked over at John. Why was he keeping a secret? Was he poorly? "John," he said. "Are you all right? What were you doing? You can tell me."

"Sherlock," John said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just -- what did you need?"

"Nothing," Sherlock said, turning back to the desk. "It's fine. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

"Just . . ." John sighed loudly and rubbed his temple. "Just think hard, for one second. I have to get dressed for work." John took a sip and headed up to his room to change.

Sherlock wasn't sure what to make of that answer. He watched John go upstairs. He followed him. "Was it something to do with work?" he asked him, standing at his bedroom door. 

"No, Sherlock. It wasn't about work," John said.

"Are you ill? Have you hurt yourself?"

"No Sherlock, I'm not ill. I'm not hurt," John said.

"Well, I don't know then," Sherlock said. "Why are you making such a big deal about this? What were you doing?"

"God, you're annoying sometimes," John said. He took another deep breath and looked over at Sherlock. "I was wanking. Are you happy?" 

Sherlock stepped back. "I . . . um, sorry. Fine, sorry," he stuttered, turning and moving back downstairs to his desk. He picked up his tea and took a sip even though it was cold now.

John finished getting dressed and came down stairs again, looking over at Sherlock. "I'll pick up dinner, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Sherlock said, trying to make his voice sound normal. He watched John leave. He felt strange about what had happened this morning, which was annoying because the whole thing had been caused by John forgetting to buy butter.

However, Sherlock was also strangely intrigued by John's admission. Why had he been doing that? Did he do it all the time? Had he been doing it every morning in the shower? Sherlock got up to make himself a fresh cup of tea as he continued to think. Perhaps he shouldn't be so surprised. Obviously, he knew what masturbation was and knew that people did it. But it seemed such a waste of time and energy, an unnecessary surrender to bodily urges when that effort would be better used on more intellectual pursuits. It surprised him that John disagreed. Didn't he get enough of that kind of stuff on his stupid dates? Why would he need to also do it alone and in the morning before work? Sherlock took his cup of tea to his chair this time, sitting down and taking a sip of the hot liquid.

He looked over at John's empty chair. John Watson had changed Sherlock's life in so many ways, and Sherlock knew that despite their differences, John was his friend. In fact, John was the best man Sherlock knew. He was also quite smart. So if John masturbated, perhaps there was more to it than Sherlock had thought.

At work, John's mind was still stuck on the scene at the flat. Sherlock was so nosy. What did it matter what John did by himself in the shower? Why did Sherlock care? John tried to let it go and concentrate.

But back at the flat, Sherlock was still sitting in his chair thinking about John and the mystery of masturbation. Should he be masturbating as well? He wondered what John would advise, but he was pretty sure he shouldn't come straight out and ask -- he'd have to be a little sneakier than that. He found his phone.

_How's work going? SH_

_Fine. A bit busy. -JW_

_What are you getting for dinner? SH_

_I was thinking Chinese. Is there anything else you'd like? -JW_

_No. Chinese is fine. Sorry for bothering you. I just wanted to make sure you were feeling all right. SH_

_There was nothing wrong with me. -JW_

_I didn't say there was. I'm just trying to be nice, John. Don't be like that. SH_

_I'm not being like anything. You know there was nothing to check up on. We talked about this. -JW_

Sherlock frowned.

_Fine. I need to work now. Be nicer by the time you get home. SH_

_You be nicer. -JW_

_Stop bothering me. SH_

Sherlock set his phone down on the table. That was of no help at all. John was still pouting about this morning. Sherlock wondered why. Could his mood be so bad because Sherlock interrupted him? Wait, he thought, is that why John was sometimes in such sour moods? Perhaps John's so-called sweet disposition was because he masturbated everyday. Today he was interrupted from the task and he'd gone all grumpy. Did masturbation make people _nicer_?

Sherlock had never spent much of his time on sex-related issues. Basically he knew all he needed to know on the subject: lust often led to crime and, other than that, nothing about it seemed very relevant. However, perhaps there was more to it. Perhaps it was connected to kindness. Which kind of made sense since the only two people who Sherlock knew had no interest in sex were him and his brother, and no one had ever equated the word kindness with them. He thought about this new theory for a little while and then decided it was probably rubbish.


	2. Questioning

John continued work with his phone on silent, worried that Sherlock was going to be harassing him. But when he left for home, he was disappointed not to see another text. He walked to the restaurant to pick up the food and then got a taxi the rest of the way. When he got home, he went up and hoped Sherlock had moved on from the morning's events. "Sherlock? I have dinner," he said. 

Sherlock was in his bedroom. He'd spent the rest of the afternoon online, reading about masturbation. He was quite surprised to find so much information -- it seemed some people were quite obsessed with it. He'd even watched a few videos, but they were pretty unpleasant. He wasn't interested in the habits of strangers. When he heard John come in, he cleared his browsing history, got up and moved to the kitchen. "Everything all right?" he asked as he sat down at the table and fiddled with the bag of food.

"Fine, yeah," John said, filling his plate with different things.

"Good," Sherlock said. He dumped some food onto his own plate and then took a few small bites. "Do you have plans for the evening?"

"Not really," John said. He poured himself some water and went to sit in his chair. "Do you?"

"No plans," Sherlock said. "Should we do something together -- you like films, we could watch a film or something."

"Okay, sure," John said. "After dinner?"

"All right," Sherlock said. "Whenever you want." They chatted about John's day and a possible client Sherlock had heard from. When he'd finished eating, Sherlock put his plate in the sink. "I'll do the washing up while you pick a film -- I don't know what exactly you like."

"Okay," John said. He looked through the films available and picked one.

Sherlock made two cups of tea and brought them into the sitting room. "Am I going to be entirely bored by this?" he asked, flopping down on to the sofa and putting his feet up on the table.

"I hope not, but I'm keeping my expectations low," John smiled over at him before starting the film.

Sherlock watched the first few minutes but then got bored. He went somewhere else in his head which meant when he came back, he wasn't sure what was happening and then that annoyed him that some stupid Hollywood film could make him feel confused. He let out an annoyed sigh and got up to make a fresh cup of tea.

John watched Sherlock get up, shifting in his seat a bit.

Sherlock brought back another mug and sat down again. He stared at the screen, trying to catch up to the storyline, but then he remembered he really didn't care anyway, and the main goal should be to minimise any irritation to John, as Sherlock hoped to get his help this evening. "Good pick," he mumbled and tried to make a little smile.

John glanced over at him. "You don't have to lie," he smiled softly. "I know you're bored. I don't know what you could sit through."

"I'm trying to get better -- one day I'll be able to sit all the way though," Sherlock said. "I'm getting used to you and your unusual hobbies. I don't think I've ever watched an entire film before I met you . . . now I get close, so that's something."

"Well, that's better than nothing, I suppose."

Sherlock managed to stay quiet and mostly not annoying for the remainder of the film. When the credits started to roll, he gave a little stretch and said, "Oh yeah, I was wondering, could I ask you something?"

"Sure," John nodded.

"Why exactly do you masturbate?" Sherlock asked casually.

"Oh my God. Sherlock, I'm not talking about that anymore." 

"Please, John," Sherlock said softly. "I'm just curious and I don't have anyone else to talk about this." He swallowed a little awkwardly. "Could you please just answer a few questions?"  


"A few?" John asked and glanced over at him. Was he really so clueless about these things? His face kind of indicated that perhaps he was. "All right . . . just a few," he sighed.

"Thank you," Sherlock said. "I guess you don't have to answer anything you feel uncomfortable sharing, but any information would be greatly appreciated. So why do you do it?"

"Because it feels good," John said, keeping his eyes on his mug as he sipped his tea.

"Well, lots of things in the world feel good but you don't do them in the shower . . . what makes this different?"

"No, Sherlock. Nothing else feels like that," John said. "Except sex. And the shower is easiest. Less messy."

"You mean because of ejaculation?" Sherlock asked in a voice that clearly indicated he was taking mental notes.

John barely held back a cringe. "Yes," he said. "And the hormone release that go with it."

"But surely the hormones don't make the mess," Sherlock said. "Don't you worry that the energy you spent would be better spent elsewhere?"

"Nope," John said. "When I want it, that's exactly where I want to put my energy."

"But what makes you 'want it'?" Sherlock asked. For some reason, an image of John stomping around the flat like the Incredible Hulk (minus the green) popped into Sherlock's head. Why did Sherlock associate that picture with desire? "I mean, do you have any control over it or what?" 

"Of course I do. But I won't deny myself if I have the chance. I get aroused. If I can take care of it, I will. If not then . . . I try to ignore it until it goes away." 

"But --" Sherlock started and then thought for a moment. "But in the morning? I just . . . I just don't understand it, I guess. I always thought it was such a waste of time, but if you do it . . . I just want to understand, I guess."

"The time of day doesn't really matter. Sometimes you have a dream or a thought . . . sometimes you just want it, so you purposely think of something to get one. It's different," John shrugged. 

"You keep saying 'want it' -- how do you know? Is it something that happens in your head or in your body?"

"Both," John said. "If it starts in my head, my body follows along. If I'm just craving the release, I make it start."

"But how? I mean . . . obviously I don't have those urges in my body or brain. Can one just make them appear?" Sherlock asked. He was watching John closely, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. Sherlock understood the basics of sex obviously, but he'd always imagined it must have something to do with the presence of another person. Now John was trying to say it could happen when he was by himself -- it was just confusing.

"Yes, if you think about something that arouses you. Some people don't get aroused easily, or at all, and that's fine too. Just think about what you like."

"I don't know, John . . ." Sherlock said. He thought about John's suggestion but still couldn't imagine actually doing it. "Anyway, thanks for talking to me about it -- I suppose I just wanted to understand it intellectually -- it just surprised me that you of all people would do that sort of thing."

"Why me of all people?"

"Because you're clever and I guess that seemed like an un-clever thing to do," Sherlock said honestly. "Perhaps I was wrong. As you know, since you've been around, I have -- on occasion -- learned a few new things from you. I'm just trying to be open-minded."

"Well, it's not about clever or not. It's about feelings, physical ones, mostly."

"I guess," Sherlock said. "Thanks for your help. I appreciate it."

John nodded. Okay. That hadn't been so bad. A bit embarrassing, but it was oddly easier to answer with Sherlock being genuinely curious instead of condescending about it all. John knew he wasn't interested in dating, but he didn't realise it had extended this far. 

"So you don't mind?" Sherlock asked.

"Don't mind what? Your questions? No," he said.

"Yes, and helping me learn," Sherlock said.

John looked over at him. "Learn what?" he asked.

"What it's like," Sherlock said. "I mean, if that's okay with you."

John narrowed his eyes. "I need you to be very clear, Sherlock. What are you asking for?"

"All I'm trying to say is thank you for allowing me to observe you so I can get firsthand knowledge of how it all works before I consider whether to try it myself," Sherlock said, a bit too matter-of-factly.

"No. Nope." John shook his head and stood up, taking his mug to the kitchen. "No way, Sherlock."

"John, that's not fair! You know people learn best from observation -- since you've been observing me work, you've become a lot less stupid than you used to be. Please," Sherlock said. "This is something you know about but I don't. Why are you being so selfish? You don't hear me complaining about helping you."

John barked out a laugh. "You. Are not. Watching me." He turned and faced Sherlock. "Find videos online. Hire a prostitute. I don't care. You're not watching me get off."

"You know I can't tolerate anybody but you!" Sherlock said. "What does it matter? I practically saw everything in the shower today -- I just didn't get a chance to ask questions. You're going to do it anyway. All I'm asking is just to let me observe."

"No," John said again. "This morning was an accident. You're not watching me."

"You're horrible," Sherlock said, standing up. "Fine. Just so you know, I am now fully committed to the idea that masturbation is stupid and anyone who does it is stupid and you do it and thus you are stupid. Happy?" He stomped off towards his room.

"You're so mature!" John shouted after him, turning everything off and going up to his room. He had done a lot of wild things for Sherlock and his experiments, but this was just too far.

Sherlock flopped down on to this bed. He felt a bit annoyed, but realised it was all a bit stupid -- he didn't really care about any of it, he was just bored. He'd gone this far in life without masturbating and he'd been fine. Just because John did it doesn't mean Sherlock should. John went out on dates and ate big meals and was unnecessarily polite -- Sherlock was never tempted to do any of those things. He was obviously just bored. As soon as he got a case, he'd be fine.

John got ready for bed, trying to think about what reason Sherlock could have for suddenly being interested. He fell asleep thinking about it and had odd dreams of Sherlock bugging the flat and spying on him.


	3. Offering

In the morning, Sherlock was up before John. He'd showered and got dressed and was online reading over some notes that Mycroft had sent through. It wasn't really a case, but his brother wanted him to do an experiment and send through the results as soon as possible. This was good news -- it would keep him busy for a day or two.

John got up and ready for work the next morning, pretending like nothing unusual had happened the night before as he made tea and toast for breakfast. He promised to get dinner on the way home again and told Sherlock to call if there was a case.

Sherlock got to work right away and lost himself in preparations. John brought home dinner, and Sherlock talked him through what he'd been working on. The next day they got up and left together because Sherlock realised he needed to pick up a few things to expand the experiment. By the end of the week, he was finished and sent the info to Mycroft, but kept clear notes for himself just in case the information might be relevant in the future.

That weekend as John headed out to go meet with Mike, he paused on his way to the door to look at Sherlock. "Are you sure you don't want to come? It'll just be Mike and me." John had asked already but he wanted to be sure Sherlock wouldn't feel left out.

"No thank you," Sherlock said, looking up from his desk. "I want to finish this and besides I don't want to go."

"Okay, no need to be mean," John said. "I shouldn't be too late. See you." He lifted his hand in a wave before leaving the flat to meet Mike. 

Sherlock watched him leave. He finished his notes and then made a cup of tea, flipping through the channels but finding nothing of much interest. He decided to take a hot bath. Although he took a book in with him, he ended up not reading at all. Instead he closed his eyes and went away for a little bit, waking up when he realised the water was now too cold.

John had a great time out. They ran into Lestrade and the three of them sat together, telling stories from work and trying to outshine each other with the wildest thing that ever happened to them. John won when he told the story of a heart surgery he was performing when the heart started up too early and they had to stop it a second time. There was nothing like holding a heart in your hands and suddenly it's beating again.

After a couple hours they left, all a little bit drunk and stumbling their way to different cabs. John paid and slowly made his way up to the flat, smiling softly as he thought of the stories they had shared.

Sherlock had considered going to bed, but since he had the flat to himself, he decided to stay out in the sitting room. He put the television on again, but spent some time reading online before shifting the laptop to the side and then getting comfortable, hogging the entire sofa. When he heard John's keys in the door, he realised he'd fallen asleep. He pushed himself off the cushion, rubbed his face, and then stood up to go make tea.

When John came in, Sherlock realised immediately that he was a little drunk -- not stupid drunk but too intoxicated to operate heavy machinery. "Have fun?" he asked as he poured the water.

John smiled wider. "Yes, it was a lot of fun. You should have come."

"Well, I had a laugh riot here on my own," Sherlock said. He carried in two cups of tea and sat down on the sofa, closing up his laptop. "Mike all right?" 

"Yeah, he's good. He's great," John said.

"Great, eh?" Sherlock asked. Yes, John was a bit drunk -- he always amped up his own answers when he was tipsy -- good quickly became great, fine turned into brilliant. "Well, that's excellent news." He took a sip of tea.

"Mhmm," John nodded. He sipped on his tea. "Tell me about your laugh riot. Or whatever you had here."

"Oh, I just had a little party -- hordes of people showed up, there was a live band, strippers, a lot of alcohol and drugs," Sherlock said, smiling. "The cops were here as well -- turns out Lord Lucan showed up, which was quite a surprise." He laughed at himself a little.  
  
John laughed loudly and shook his head. "You're lying," he said. 

"Possibly," Sherlock said. "I knew I couldn't compete with your excitement so I might have embellished a little."

"You should have come out," John said. "Bet you have some stories."

"I don't have any stories," Sherlock said. "Is that what you did all night -- sat around drinking and telling tall tales?"

"I won," John said. He opened his hand like he was holding a heart there, staring at it for a moment.

"Was it all about 'love' and that rubbish?" Sherlock asked. "Was anything you said true at all?"

"It was gory stories," John said. He moved his fingers, twitching them like a pumping heart before dropping his hand again and smiling.  
  
"I have gory stories," Sherlock said. "If you ever need a good time, you don't need to go out and get drunk. I've got gory here at home."

"You should have come. You might've won," John said. 

"What was the prize?"

"Gloating," John said.

"Immature," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "I'm glad I didn't go."

John flicked him off and then laughed again, sipping on his tea.

"Why do you always like going out so much?" Sherlock asked. "Whenever you have a free night, you always go out. I'm not complaining . . . it's fine. I was just curious, I guess."  
  
"I don't know. It's fun. And easier to see my friends," he said.

"I thought we were friends," Sherlock said.

"Of course we are."

"All right then," Sherlock said, standing up.

"Are you going to bed?" John asked.

"No," Sherlock said. "Just going to get more tea. Settle down . . you went all panicked there. Are you going to be sick or something, do you need me to look after you?"

John shook his head. "I don't need to be taken care of, I'm not that drunk," he said. 

"All right, don't be so tetchy," Sherlock said. "I was only offering my help -- that's what friends do, right? You help me, I help you. If I've got it wrong, forget I mentioned it. Do you want me to go to bed? I can take my tea in there if that's what you want."

"No, you don't have to leave."

"Fine, I won't," Sherlock said. He moved back and got John's mug, filling them both and coming back to the sofa. "So . . . what do you want to talk about then?"

John shrugged. "I saw Greg," he said. "He had a stupid story. That's why he didn't win."

"What was it?" Sherlock asked. "And what was your story that was so good? Or do I only get to hear if I go out with you lot?"

"I don't know. Some nonsense about someone getting his hand shot through." John held his hand up again. "I held a heart that started beating in my hands."

"Oh you're a big man, aren't you?" Sherlock said. "Although . . . that is pretty good. And there was no prize besides the glory?"

John shook his head. "That's a good enough prize."

"Boring," Sherlock said. "At least at my party we had prizes -- Lord Lucan won a trophy for hide and seek." He laughed at himself a little.

John grinned. "Listen to you, funny man."

"I am being quite funny this evening," Sherlock said. "You should have heard me at the party. Everyone was in stitches."

"Hmm. Maybe I'll stay in next time," he said. 

"I hired the strippers with you in mind, but you missed them," Sherlock said. "Once again, you ignore my attempt to help."

"Help with what?" John asked. He was feeling a bit sleepy now. 

"Help you get lucky with the ladies," Sherlock said.

John rolled his eyes. "Oh please, you always send them away."

"I have never once sent a stripper away," Sherlock said, mock offended.

John laughed loudly. "I meant my dates."

"That's because the ones you choose are idiots," Sherlock said. "Obviously. I don't know anything about these matters, but I do know they're idiots."

"You don't know that. You don't give them a chance," he said.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You've met me, right?" he said. "You know I'm always right -- and the evidence is there. You can't deny that."

"You could let me have fun," he said. 

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock said. "I don't stop you doing anything."

"You stop my dates which could lead to other things." John closed his eyes and tipped his head back. 

"You want to have sex with idiots?" Sherlock asked. "Don't be stupid."

"I want sex," John said simply.

Sherlock shook his head. "Don't you think that's . . . a bit pathetic?"

John shrugged. "It feels good. Other people want to feel good, so why not?"

"Well, I wouldn't know, would I?"

"You haven't ever?" he asked. 

"Not really," Sherlock said. "I mean, no."

"Oh. Um, right. Well . . . never mind that," John said absently.

"Ironically, the fact that I have been denied that pleasure is basically your fault, which is what you were claiming I was doing to you and the idiots," Sherlock said.

"What? How is it my fault?" John asked surprised.

"Because I was trying to learn and you said no," Sherlock explained.

John's brow furrowed. "No. You wanted to watch me -- that's not learning. I'll answer whatever you want."

"Anything?" Sherlock asked.

"Just questions," John said, letting his head rest on his chair.

"Let me think . . . could you tell me how you learned to ride a bike?" Sherlock asked.

John pulled a face. "I don't know. My mum helped, I think. I saw Harry doing it and when she got a new bike, I got her old bike."

"So you didn't learn by asking a bunch of questions? Asking questions didn't teach you how to do something you've never done?"

John opened his mouth and then closed it, shaking his head. "You -- that's not the same. You can easily do this on your own."

"And yet I haven't for an entire lifetime. . ." Sherlock mused. "It's fine, John. Obviously you're too uptight about it, that's fine. I don't have to do it. I don't have to know something that is apparently such a good feeling you'll consider doing it with idiots . . . I've survived this long without it. I don't suppose there's any reason to start just because my best friend -- whom I trust -- won't shut up about how great it is yet won't help me at all. . . it's fine," Sherlock said, standing up. Although he was quite curious, this was his last attempt -- if John didn't fall for the guilt trip and the threat of leaving, Sherlock knew he wouldn't change his mind.

"It's just uncomfortable," John reached out and grabbed Sherlock's wrist. "But if you really want to, I can tell you how or we can watch something," he mumbled. He felt bad -- sad and heavy all of a sudden.

"I don't understand why it's uncomfortable. I've watched you do other things you enjoy -- you've made me watch you eat a million times. Besides you do that stuff with idiots . . . why do they get to see but your best friend can't?" Sherlock asked. He took a sip of tea before quietly adding, "Besides I have watched things, John, and they're stupid and they're strangers. I don't want to watch sex, I just want to see how masturbation is done by normal people."

"It's just . . ." John mumbled. The alcohol was affecting his thinking more than it would have been normally. "Having sex with someone is different than just letting someone watch that."

"But idiots, John? Idiots who are basically strangers -- you share it with them but not me, your best friend?" Sherlock asked. Then he thought for a moment. "Is it because I don't want to do anything -- you only let people see if you get something out of it?"

"It's because it's private -- it's not a show," he sighed. "I guess I could try to do it for you -- to you, I mean." He looked at Sherlock, trying to call his bluff. "I could show you on you."

"But John, that's like sex and I-I don't . . . I don't know . . ." Sherlock stuttered. He wasn't quite sure why John was saying this. Did John want to have sex with Sherlock? "I just wanted to learn how to do it to myself since you said it was so great . . . I don't want . . ." He wasn't quite sure what else to say.

"Well, hands on, right? If you get off, you'll know what the big deal is. And you'll know how to do it," John said.

"That's quite generous, John, really, I appreciate it," Sherlock said, trying to maintain a calm voice. "But as you know, it's all about observation for me. I'd just like to be able to observe, ask a few questions, you know, just gather some information. Once I have that, I'll decide whether or not to try it, and if I do, I'm sure I'll be able to take it from there."

John let go of Sherlock's wrist, rubbing his face hard. "I -- fine. Just . . . fine, I'll do it."

"Thank you," Sherlock said. "And could I just clarify that all of this stays between us? Obviously, I trust you and you can trust me, but I just wanted to clarify because this involves me knowing nothing and you knowing all, which is not my favourite situation." He smiled a bit stupidly.


	4. Observing

"Fine. Are you doing it here or what?" Sherlock asked. He realised he was still smiling stupidly so he tried to make a neutral face.

"No. My room," John said, standing and leading the way up the stairs. He wasn't quite sure how Sherlock had got him to agree to this.

"All right," Sherlock said, standing up, walking behind John. "Not the shower?"

"No," John said. "I want to be comfortable -- this will be awkward enough."

"I'll try not to make it any more awkward," Sherlock said. "But I should also remind you that you've met me and making things awkward is kind of what I do." 

"What are you trying to learn, exactly?"

"If it's worth doing," Sherlock said, sitting down and then standing up again, not knowing really what to do. "I always assumed it wasn't but if you do it . . . I trust you so maybe I should. But I've got no idea how really."

"I told you how. I'm not telling you what I think about," John warned. "Not specifics."

"You can feel free to pass on any question I ask," Sherlock said. "I won't know for sure what information I'll be needing, but this isn't a police interrogation. Are we keeping the lights on?"

"Do we have to?" John asked.

"Of course not," Sherlock said. He turned to look over at John. "Listen, I know I don't understand why this seems like a big deal to you but I can see it does. I really do appreciate it. I don't know anything about any of this so you just take it from here, okay? Whatever you normally do . . . just tell me where I should sit, otherwise, lights on, lights off -- whatever works for you."

"Just . . . sit on the bed," John said. He switched off the overhead light but turned on the lamp, stripping to his briefs and climbing into bed properly.

Sherlock sat down. He was facing away from John so he turned and brought his legs up onto the bed, sitting awkwardly. "Do you have to be 'in the mood' or can you just do it no matter what?" he asked quietly, staring a bit forward into space.

"I have to get in the mood. I'll think of stuff, and start touching, and it'll happen," John explained. He leaned back comfortably, closing his eyes and palming himself.

"Okay," Sherlock whispered. He wasn't quite sure why he was whispering -- John wasn't -- but he kept his voice quiet. "You don't have to say specifics but could I just ask, is it always sex-related things you think about? Past experiences or fantasies or might you just be thinking about other things you find interesting, things that have nothing to do with sex?"

"It's always sex-related," John said. "Just thinking about stuff I like done to me."

"Interesting," Sherlock said. "Stuff that has been done or you wish would be done?"

"Both. I just let my mind wander," he murmured, palming harder, stroking through his pants.

"But it's always something being done to you . . . you never think about what you've done . . . to someone else, I guess I mean?"

"Sometimes, but not often. There's no one else here, so I make it just about me," John admitted.

"Selfish, but fine, I appreciate your honesty," Sherlock said. He moved his eyes a little, trying not to move his head, so he could see what John's hand was doing. It just looked like he was massaging the area. It didn't seem all that complicated.

"Of course it's selfish, I'm alone." John pushed his pants out of the way and gripped his cock, stroking steadily.

Sherlock saw John's erection and flicked his eyes away, while still keeping his head still. "Are you almost done then?" he asked quietly.

"No," John said. He took a deep breath and moved his hand a bit faster, his thumb rubbing over the tip. "I like to take my time. Feels better."

"Okay," Sherlock said a bit stupidly. He was quiet for a moment, listening to John's breathing changing. He glanced over and saw John's moving in a slightly different way. "Does it . . . hurt at all?"

"No," John said, his voice breathless, half moaning. "It's good . . . it feels good. . ."

"Just there? I mean, is it just . . . down there that feels good? Your breathing's changed -- does it affect other places as well?" Sherlock asked. He kind of wished he could take notes but was pretty sure John would not find that acceptable.

"It's all over," he said, shifting, writhing a bit as he got closer. His breathing became even more shallow.

"Do you feel . . . sexy?" Sherlock asked. "Is this what 'sexy' is supposed to be?" 

"Sexy is what I'm seeing . . . maybe it's what my partner would think. I feel . . . hot. Good . . ." John bit his lip and focused before he let go and came in his hand, moaning and gasping quietly.

Sherlock turned his head now and just watched as John finished. He realised he was staring at John's cock so he closed his eyes for a moment. "Is that it then?" he whispered.

John slowed his hand and let go, panting softly as he straightened his pants again. "That's it."

"And now how do you feel?"

"Satisfied," John said, opening his eyes.

"And what you were doing . . . how did you know to do it that way?" Sherlock asked.

"It felt good. I just did what felt good," John said.

"And when someone else is here . . . that's what they do to you?" Sherlock asked and then kind of wished he hadn't. Somehow that seemed like a different kind of question and for a second he wondered if he really wanted to know the answer.

"They do a lot more than that. We both do," John said.

"But that plays some kind of role in it all?"

"What? Touching my cock? Yeah."

"Okay, you don't have to be vulgar about it," Sherlock said. "And the little noises you were making . . . that's normal?"

"Sorry, scientist. Do you prefer penis?" John smiled. "The noises are usually more."

Sherlock ignored John's first comment. "Was there anything else that you usually do that you didn't do tonight?" he asked.

John glanced at the bedside table drawer, but John didn't think Sherlock needed all that. "Yeah, that's pretty much it," he said.

Sherlock had a feeling that wasn't quite true, but he didn't push it. "All right," he said. "I guess I've got the basics. Do you think this is something I should try then? Be honest."

"If you want to, then yes," John said. "It's healthy and normal and I don't see any reason not to try if you're curious."

"I'll think about it," Sherlock said, shifting a little. "Well, thanks. I hope I didn't make it too awkward. I don't have any more questions and we never have to talk about this again." He stood up. "Good night, John. Thanks again." He looked over at him and gave a little smile before he left and went downstairs to his own bedroom.

John signed when Sherlock left, shifting to lay down properly. This had been a very strange night.

Sherlock lay down on his bed. He was thinking about what he'd just seen. He still wasn't entirely sure what he'd been expecting, but he thought it'd be something more than that. John said it felt sexy, but Sherlock was still a bit confused on what sexy really meant. What was Sherlock supposed to think of to get him in the mood -- he didn't have any memories to use. Watching John didn't necessarily compel Sherlock to start masturbating, but at least he knew a little bit more than he did before.


	5. Experimenting

John woke the next morning and got ready for work, his mind drifting to the night before. He hoped Sherlock was right about them not having to talk about it again. He went down and made tea, then put toast in.

When Sherlock heard John in the kitchen, he stretched and then got out of bed. He slipped his dressing gown on and went out. "No toast for me," he said, pouring himself a cup of tea and moving over to his desk.

"I wasn't making you any toast," John said.

Sherlock frowned and took a sip of tea before opening his laptop to check his email. "Possible case," he mumbled as he read through an email from a potential client.

"Anything interesting?"

"Umm . . ." Sherlock said, trying to reading quickly. "Not really . . . but we should take it, I need something to do. It looks like it's just a 'I know my wife is cheating but rather than accept it and move on, I'd like to hire you to buy me more time'. I can get started today while you're at work. All right?"

"Yeah," John agreed. "Call me if it gets interesting, okay?"

"Will do," Sherlock said. "You working all day or what?"

"Just until five, maybe a bit earlier if it's not busy."

"All right then," Sherlock said. He was already typing a response to the client to arrange a time to meet as John left, eating his toast on the way.

At the flat, Sherlock finished his emails and then made another cup of tea. He didn't have to get to work immediately, so he lay down on the sofa, and his mind drifted to last night. He wondered if perhaps he should give it a try while things were fresh in his mind. He tried to get comfortable on the cushions, opening his dressing gown a little. He took a deep breath before slipping his hand inside his pajama bottoms. He held himself and started moving his hand like John had. He closed his eyes then opened them and then closed them again, all the while continuing to move his hand. Nothing seemed to be happening. His breath didn't change, his body didn't feel hot, and his cock didn't even get hard. This wasn't making him feel good at all; it was making him feel a bit stupid actually. He pulled out his hand, sat up, and moved over to his desk, deciding to just give up on the masturbation experiment. He opened his computer and started working on the case.

John's work was busier than he would have liked, but it was good to keep his mind and body busy. He left a little after five, hurrying to get home again.

Sherlock looked up from his laptop when John came in. "You said you'd be home by five. It's nearly six," he said, waving his empty mug to let John know to make some tea for him as well.

"I said if it wasn't busy," John said, hanging his coat and moving into the kitchen.

"Well . . . fine," Sherlock said, getting up and joining him. "I just was looking forward to your getting home, I guess."

"Oh. Did something happen with the case?"

"A bit," Sherlock said, making some tea and taking it into the sitting room. He set his mug on the table and then brought his laptop to the sofa. "It's not very exciting but a little more interesting than I'd thought. Have you got time to listen?"

"Of course," John said, coming in to pour fresh water for Sherlock before sitting down.

Sherlock handed his laptop to John. "Read over it all," Sherlock said. "I do think it's an affair but I think the woman might be involved in some other dodgy business as well."  
  
John took the computer and read over the case, nodding slowly as he did. "It does sound a bit . . . off. You'll figure it out," he said.

"It's a bit boring really, but we've got nothing else so it's better than nothing," Sherlock said, leaning back a bit to get comfortable. "Have you got something for dinner or do you want to order in?" 

"Um, let's order in. I don't fancy the leftovers -- I'll take them for lunch tomorrow."

"All right," Sherlock said. He rolled off the sofa and placed the order. After dinner, he worked for a little bit on the case and then they watched another film -- with Sherlock staying focused for all of twenty minutes this time before he started fussing.

The next few days consisted of the same -- John spending time at the surgery with only minor interruptions from Sherlock's texts, Sherlock running about London trying to find information that would make that guy's wife's affair a bit more interesting, and not much of anything in the evenings.

When John was getting ready for work on Friday, Sherlock said, "Look, this case should be wrapped up today -- want to go out for dinner tonight to mark the end of it all?"

"Sorry, I have a date, actually," John said. "Maybe over the weekend?"

"Right, sure, maybe tomorrow or something," Sherlock said. He packed up his own things and headed out to get finish the investigation.

John went to work and stopped at home before heading out for his date. He was surprised Sherlock was still out and hoped he'd be all right on his own. This date had promise, and he didn't want Sherlock interrupting it with his usual pouting.

When Sherlock got back, he was a bit disappointed to see that John had already gone. He did finish the case and had a nice cheque in his pocket, but it felt a bit anticlimactic on his own. He had a cup of tea and flipped through the channels, but that was a bit boring. He decided to take a hot bath. He turned on the water and then dug around the kitchen looking for a bottle of wine someone had given them. He opened it, poured a glass, and took it into the bathroom with him, sinking slowly into the hot water.

When he got out of the bath, he slipped his dressing gown around him and poured himself another glass, which he took into the bedroom. He lay down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. It was a bit boring without John around. He thought about John for a few moments and then remembered the whole masturbation question. He wondered if he should maybe try it again. He pulled down the covers and got under them, before untying his dressing gown and opening it up. He closed his eyes and tried to picture what John had done and how it'd been different to what he'd done the other day. He moved his hand down his body and held himself. He kind of massaged it a bit like John had -- it didn't hurt to do it, but he wasn't really feeling good nor was it getting hard. John had said that thinking about sex things helped his body get into the mood, but Sherlock didn't have any memories to call up. He thought about the videos but those were decidedly not sexy. He wished he could be like John and just be normal about all this. All John had to do was think and touch and then he felt good. Sherlock wished he could be like John. John was so good.

And then suddenly it seemed to be working a bit.

He was getting hard and he realised what John had said was true -- he could feel it in his whole body. He was getting warm, and his heart rate changed. His hand moved a little faster, like John's had, and the minute that thought crossed Sherlock's mind, he had another burst of good feelings. Suddenly his hand was just moving -- he wasn't even thinking about precisely what it should be doing -- it was moving and his hips were moving as well and then he came.  
  
Just like that. Sherlock Holmes had just successfully masturbated for the very first time.

After the stroll in the park John offered to walk his date home, but she declined and decided on a cab instead. They made plans to meet again sometime next week, and after promising to call, John shut the cab door and watched her go. He pulled out his phone and checked it, brows raised in surprise. Not a single message from Sherlock. He turned towards home and started walking that way.

Sherlock lay there for a few moments, feeling a bit . . . he didn't even know the word for it. It had felt good, really good actually, but right at this moment, he felt like his brain was not functioning at all. Things slowly began to go back to normal and he pulled the covers back, reaching for some tissue to clean up his belly. He slowly got up and put on his pajamas. He wrapped his dressing gown around him again and went to the bathroom to wash his face. He got his wine glass and poured himself a little more, but he also put the kettle on for a cup of tea. He glanced at the clock, wondering if that meant John's date was a success. If that meant John was going to have sex with her.

Sherlock decided he didn't like that idea at all. He wasn't sure why and wasn't in the mood to figure it out, but he didn't like that idea at all.

Half hour later John was climbing the steps up to the flat, hanging his jacket and needing some tea. He went into the kitchen to check if the kettle was hot, noticing the bottle of wine.

Sherlock was back in his room when he heard John come in. He got up, carrying both his mug and glass out into the kitchen. "Good night?" he asked, moving to top up his glass. He put his empty mug in the sink.

"Yes. Looks like you're having one as well," he said.

"I was celebrating, I guess," Sherlock said, taking his glass over to the sofa. "It wasn't quite as good without you here, but please do not take that to mean I am trying to guilt trip you because I'm not. You have every right to ignore your friend's successes, if that's the kind of person you are. I'm not judging." He took a sip of wine.

John rolled his eyes and brought his mug out to his chair. "So you solved it all, then?"

"Obviously," Sherlock said. "I was right about her but it was only a little embezzling. Nothing interesting like murder. Regardless . . . I left the cheque on the desk."

"Okay, great. I take it to the bank on Monday," John said.

"So, you off to bed then?" Sherlock asked. "Feeling good, satisfied, what?"

"I will after my tea, I think. I feel fine," John said. He looked over at Sherlock. "Why?"

"No reason," Sherlock said. "I think I'll stay up a while. You do whatever you normally do after."

John narrowed his eyes a bit, sure that Sherlock was trying to ask him something without actually asking it. "Right, I will," he said, going back to enjoying his tea.

"All right," Sherlock said. He took a sip of wine. "I opened some wine," he said randomly.

"I saw, you've had quite a bit of the bottle. Do you feel okay?"

"As a matter of fact, I do," Sherlock said. "I wasn't really trying to get drunk, but I suppose I am a little. Or relaxed, I guess, more so than drunk. Relaxed."

"Well, that's good," John said. "I'm glad you've had a nice night."

"Good, everyone is glad that everyone had a good time. And we're ending our good times with this fascinating conversation," Sherlock said. "Have you suddenly gone boring or something?" He realised he felt a little annoyed at John for some reason, but at the same time he was aware that he was smiling and wasn't quite sure why.

"What do you mean?" John asked, confused and slightly offended.

"I mean, this conversation is boring -- all I wanted all night is for you to come home and now we're not even talking about anything," Sherlock said. "I don't know why you insisted on going out tonight and why you have to come back and just try to make me feel bad." He immediately put the glass to his mouth. His mouth seemed to be releasing words without checking with his brain first.

"How did I make you feel bad?" John stammered in confusion. "All I did was go out -- you knew I had a date! And I said I would go out with you tomorrow to celebrate."

"I just . . . I don't know," Sherlock said quietly. "I don't know what I'm talking about. Maybe I'm tired." He set his glass down. "I guess I should tell you . . . I masturbated."

John opened his mouth and then closed it, trying very hard not to convey anything with his face. He opened his mouth again, but nothing came out. He didn't know what this had to do with John hurting his feelings, or whatever. He took a breath. "Oh. And did you like it?" he asked, trying to sound normal.

"I don't know, I thought I did, but it seems to have made me angry at you for some reason," Sherlock said. He stood and poured the rest of his wine down the sink and put the kettle on.

"Oh. Why? I don't understand. Was it not what you wanted? I didn't make you do it, you know."

"Well first of all, yes, you did kind of make me do it, and secondly, I don't know why I'm irritated," Sherlock said. "Maybe I had a bad reaction or something? Could that happen?"

"No, not unless you hurt yourself and if you were hurting yourself, I would assume you'd have had the sense to stop. Besides, I didn't force you to do anything, you're the one who brought it up and insisted you watch me. It was all you."

"It was not," Sherlock said. "I never even cared about it until you started doing it every morning. None of this was about me. It was all about you." He came back with his mug. "I didn't hurt myself," he said quietly. "I'm pretty sure I did it right."

"I didn't ask you to watch me. Or to copy my habits," John pointed out.

"I did copy you. I did it just like you did and I even thought about you so you have no one to blame if it turns out this is what masturbation does to me," Sherlock said, like he had just proven his point.

John was about to argue when his mouth snapped shut. "You -- why did you think of me?" he asked softly.

"Because what else would I think about? I don't have memories like you do," Sherlock explained. "I had to think of something. You said so."

"They don't have to be memories! It could be anything that turns you on!"

"Well, I don't know what that means . . . I don't have anything that turns me on. Except rubbing my penis like you taught me how to do."

"Right, but it's what your brain . . . never mind. It's fine," John said, still unsure what to say about any of this. "Just -- I'm glad you figured it out."

"Well now I'm worried . . . after you did it, you seemed pleasantly calm. It appears to have made me aggressive. Why do you think that is?"

"I don't know, Sherlock. It doesn't usually do that. Maybe you didn't like it," John offered.

"But I did like it," Sherlock said. "I mean . . . I felt good, like you said. I did -- I felt warm and just . . . good. It wasn't until you got home that I got aggravated."

"Right," John said. "Maybe because of the date? That always gets you going," he said.

"Maybe," Sherlock said. "I didn't want you to go, if I'm honest."

"You never want me to go," John pointed out.

"True," Sherlock said. "But it felt different tonight," he added more quietly.

John looked up at him again. "How come?" he asked gently.

"Because I just wanted you to be here," Sherlock said. "Don't ask me why. That's the best I can do, all right?"

"Here? Or in your room?" John asked, keeping his voice soft, still gazing at him.

"Just wherever I was, I guess," Sherlock said. "Here or in my room . . . whatever you would've wanted."

John fiddled with his fingers a bit, knowing he was going into dangerous territory. He was thinking about Sherlock getting off, and Sherlock had been thinking about him while getting off -- did Sherlock moan his name? John swallowed hard. "What would you have wanted?"

"I don't know," Sherlock said. "Because I was there when you did, it seemed like you should be there when I did." He felt a bit embarrassed, but it was kind of how he felt.

"Oh," John murmured. Okay, so it was all scientific stuff still. He didn't know any better. "Well, it's good that it felt good. Glad I could help, I guess," he said. After a second, he stood and went to dump his lukewarm tea, washing the mug. 

"Do you think I should try it again . . . I mean, with you there? Just to see if I get agitated again?" For some reason, all of a sudden, Sherlock really, really wanted John to say yes.

John's hands paused and he stared down at the soapy mug. Sherlock had watched him, why shouldn't he watch Sherlock? He swallowed hard and realised he was nodding even though Sherlock couldn't see him. "Um . .. if you think that will help," he said. "I would, I mean, to help . . . if you wanted."

"If you insist," Sherlock said, heading to his room. He quickly got into the bed and lay flat, waiting.

John nearly dropped the mug as he hurried into Sherlock's room.


	6. Learning

"Just lay down like I did in your room," Sherlock said. He pulled open his dressing gown and pushed his pajama bottoms down just a bit. He rested his hand on his hip. "Are you going to talk or ask questions or anything or just be silent or what?"

John sat on the bed. "I'll just be silent," he said.

"Are you going to be thinking about sexy things?" Sherlock asked. He let his fingers curl around his cock.

John's eyes fixed on Sherlock's hand, tracing his cock before shrugging. "Maybe," he murmured, his voice thick.

"Do you want to say?" Sherlock whispered.

John licked his lips. "I -- no. No, because now I'm thinking about you," he mumbled.

"I'm thinking about you too, John," Sherlock whispered, because he was as he started to move his hand on himself. "I'm thinking about what you let me watch and I think that's what I think is sexy . . . I'm sorry."

"It's okay," John said quietly, unable to look away. He didn't add anything else because his mind was too busy showing him all kinds of things they could be doing. God, Sherlock was sexy. How had he never noticed before?

"I wonder what would have happened if I had said yes," Sherlock exhaled, his hand now moving steadily.

"Said yes to what?" John asked softly.

"When you said you would do it for me," Sherlock said. He was thinking about that now, thinking about it being John's hand rather than his own.

John looked up at Sherlock's face, biting his lip. He shifted very slowly. He slid his hand under the covers and tugged Sherlock's hand away, wrapping his own around Sherlock's cock. "Like this?" he whispered, moving his hand slowly.

Sherlock exhaled loudly -- it felt too good and also a little confusing and immediately he came, spraying John's hand and the sheet covering him. "Oh god," he moaned lightly, bringing his hand up to cover his face. "I'm sorry . . ." 

"Shh," John murmured. "It's okay." He stroked until Sherlock was finished, lightly pulling his hand away and watching Sherlock try to catch his breath.

"Was that . . . why did that happen? Maybe I shouldn't be doing it, maybe it doesn't work right for me . . ." Sherlock rambled a bit stupidly.

"It was good, Sherlock. You were perfect," John reassured him. "It's new. That's normal."

"I feel . . . embarrassed, I guess," Sherlock admitted. "It was so different when you did it . . . I should've paid attention so I can do it better next time but I wasn't thinking . .. "

"Sherlock, you did fine. It was perfect," he said. "It's not the same for everyone."

Sherlock lay there quietly for a moment. He realised his stomach hurt a little. "John," he said quietly. "Did you do that earlier . . . on your date?"

John looked up at Sherlock's face. He shook his head. "No I didn't," he said softly.

"I know it's not my business . .. but I didn't want you to," Sherlock said. "I guess I thought if you wanted to . . . you could just do it here, you know, like before." 

"With you?" John asked.

"Maybe," Sherlock said. "I mean if you wanted to . . . it could help me learn more." His voice sounded a little funny which he knew meant that he wasn't being entirely honest, but he hoped John wouldn't notice. 

"And if it wasn't for learning?" John asked, swallowing hard.

"I don't know," Sherlock mumbled. "I feel like -- I just feel like I like it, I like that it's just us, I mean, for me . . . it's just you." 

John nodded. "Okay," he said. "We . . . it can be just us and we can figure out what that means later."

Sherlock shifted a little. "Are you going to do it now?" 

John glanced down at the bulge in his trousers. "Yeah, I can," he said. 

"Show me how to make it last longer," Sherlock said softly. 

"That comes with time," John said. He shifted to get more comfortable against the headboard. "Controlling it." He pushed his trousers off and rubbed through his pants. 

Sherlock watched John's face first. Then he looked down at John's hand, watching its movement. Suddenly he realised just how close they were, with his body next to John's. But he didn't move away. In fast, he pushed himself up a little so he could see better. 

John looked over at Sherlock, watching his face as he pushed his pants down and gripped his cock properly. 

Sherlock put his hand by John's hip. "Can I try doing it on you?" he asked. "Will you show me how you do it, but with my hand so I know?" 

John reached out and took Sherlock's hand, bringing it to his cock and covering it with his own. He started the movement again. "Just like that," he moaned lightly.

John's felt different, which Sherlock realised immediately should not have come as any surprise. Their hands were moving slowly. Despite the fact that he knew they were doing something quite sexual, Sherlock knew he also really just liked the feeling of John's hand around his. "Does it feel good?" he asked in a whisper.

John's head tipped back against the headboard. "Yes," he moaned again.

"Could I . . . do something else you like?" Sherlock whispered again.

"What do you mean?" John asked, swallowing back another moan.

"Like . . . kiss?"

John held Sherlock's gaze. "Okay," he whispered.

"I just thought I could try it once," Sherlock said. "And you could show me what I'm doing wrong." He shifted his body again, moving even closer to John. His hand was still moving, and he leaned over and softly kissed John's neck. Then he nuzzled it a few times before realising what he was doing so he pulled his head back. "Was that okay?"  
  
John shivered lightly and nodded. "Very good," he moaned breathlessly.

"Could I do it on your mouth?" Sherlock said. "You'll have to turn your head."  
  
John turned his head to the side, meeting Sherlock's eyes which were already so very close. "Please," he murmured.

Sherlock moved his head towards John's, crashing a bit into his mouth, kissing him. He felt John's hand speed up a bit as he kept kissing him.

John licked out, deepening the kiss.

Sherlock parted his lips a little, touching his tongue to John's. "It's still all okay?" he asked tentatively.

John nodded, using his free hand to tug him close for another kiss.

Sherlock tried to stop thinking about what he was doing and just did it instead. The kisses were a little sloppy, but they felt good and he could feel he was getting an erection again. He didn't know if he should tell John or not. "What else . . .?" he asked in between kisses.

"Just this for now," John breathed. "I'm close," he added, moving their hands faster.

"Everything you do is sexy . . . I never knew but now I do," Sherlock mumbled, continuing to kiss him. Both of their bodies were moving on the bed.

John squeezed his eyes shut and let go, coming over his belly and both of their hands as he panted and moaned against Sherlock's mouth.

"John," Sherlock moaned. He said the name again. He was pushing against John's hip and then he kind of crawled on top of him a bit. "Let's do more . . ." he said, rutting against him.

"Sherlock," John gasped, tugging Sherlock into his lap properly.

"I just need to . . . press against you," Sherlock basically grunted and he thrust his hips in a slow rhythm. "Is this okay . . . is it wrong?"

"It's bloody perfect," John groaned, moving his hands to get Sherlock's cock out again.

"God, John," Sherlock moaned, closing his eyes as he dropped his head to John's neck. "It feels so good, you're so sexy, everything is . . . feels good and all the time and you and . . ." he mumbled, barely making any sense.

"I know, love," John murmured. He gripped his cock and stroked, leaning up to kiss Sherlock's mouth.

Sherlock kissed John again and then he called out loudly, thrusting hard against John's hand and hips, coming over him. His body melted onto John's, and he slid slowly to the side. "My heart's beating so fast," he exhaled.

John groaned as he watched Sherlock and turned to face him. "I know," he said.

Sherlock pulled off his dressing gown and tried to wipe them both up a bit. He threw it down on to the floor and lay back on the bed. "It's going to make me sad now," he said softly. "When you do that with someone else, I mean . . ."

John reached over and took his hand, lacing their fingers. "Sherlock, we agreed before we did all of this that I wouldn't. It would be just us."

"That was before . . . when I was learning," Sherlock said. "I mean, all the time. I don't want you to go be with them . . ."

"I didn't mean only when you were learning. I said I wanted this to be ours, just ours," John said.

"It's always about you," Sherlock said. "Because you're like no other."

John leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Sherlock lay back flat on the bed. "I guess I must like all this business . . . who'd have guessed?" He turned his head and smiled at John.

John smiled at him. "And we've only scratched the surface," he said.

"Should I be worried?" Sherlock asked, still smiling quite stupidly.

"No, you should be excited," he grinned.

"I'll try," Sherlock said. "I've liked all of it so far," Sherlock said. "Especially the kissing. . . surprising, I suppose."

John smiled. "I like that a lot too."

"Thanks, John," Sherlock said, leaning over to give him a kiss. "You have definitely helped with my curiosity."


	7. Clarifying

Sherlock lay back flat on the bed. His body and his brain were exhausted -- so much had gone on in the flat this evening. He stared up at the ceiling for a few moments and then said, "Could I clarify a few things?"

"Sure," John nodded, looking over at him.

"You're certain you don't want to keep doing all this with other people?" Sherlock asked. 

"I want to do them with you," John said.

"But you also want to do things to me?" Sherlock asked. "Like do that kind of thing for me?"

John nodded. "Everything you want to try," he said.

"But I don't know what there is to try," Sherlock said. "I mean, I'd like to do it better, I guess, make it last longer, but I don't know what else there is."

"I'll show you," John said, knowing they would have to start slow. "We can experiment."

Sherlock looked over at John. "Can I ask you one more thing?" he asked.

"Anything you want," John said, worried about what that mind of Sherlock's might be thinking.

"You don't have to -- don't feel obliged -- but would you like to sleep in here?" Sherlock said. "With me, I mean."

John grinned. "Of course I will," he said, relieved at the question. 

"Good," Sherlock said. "But I want to, you know, clean up a little. I didn't get so messy when I did it on my own." 

"I'll get a washcloth," John said, stretching before getting up to get one. 

Sherlock got up as well, realising he actually needed the toilet. He grabbed a pair of pajamas and waited outside the bathroom door. "Are you going to sleep in your pajamas?" he asked John when he came out.

John shook his head. "I usually sleep in just my pants," he said 

"Okay, that's fine, just . . . get out, I need the toilet," Sherlock said, bouncing a little.

John swatted him with the cloth before leaving the bathroom and checking that the front door was locked.

Sherlock used the toilet and then slipped off his clothes, running a wet flannel over himself. He put his pajamas on -- maybe it was stupid after the things they'd done tonight, but for some reason he felt a bit self-conscious about being nude in front of John. Two weeks ago, he wouldn't have given it a second thought, but it felt different now. He got himself a glass of water and then went back into the bedroom, climbing into bed.

"Do you feel okay?" John asked.

"Of course," Sherlock said. He took a sip of water and then looked up. "Why? Is it bad I did three times in one night? Am I going to be ill or something?"

"No, I was just asking because it's new for you, and three times in one night can be intense."

"No, I'm fine," Sherlock said, lying back on his pillow. "Maybe I'll do it again before I go to sleep," he added cheekily.

John raised his brows and gestured with his hand for Sherlock to go ahead.

Sherlock slid his hand under covers and rested it on his lap. He thought for a moment if he really felt like doing it. "Are you going to as well?" he asked.

"I could if you wanted to do it together again. But if you're serious about learning more, maybe I could watch this time," John suggested.

"Can you show me how to do it so it doesn't end so fast?" Sherlock said. He could feel himself starting to get a bit excited already.

John nodded, "When you feel it building quickly, pull back a bit." He looked down the bed at Sherlock's body.

Under the covers, Sherlock slipped out of his pajama bottoms and wrapped his hand around himself, starting a slow stroke. He closed his eyes. "Do you want to watch properly?" he asked. "You can, I guess. . . " He pulled the blanket back to expose himself.

John made a small sound as he nodded. Sherlock was already hard. "Thank you," he said softly.

"It already feels good . . . how do I know when to stop?" Sherlock said.

"When it feels like too much . . . when you feel like you're about to come."

"John," Sherlock said. "I feel like I could come just from hearing you say the word come." He smiled, but didn't look over.

John grinned. "Slow down a bit . . . feel yourself filling . . ."

"I like the talking," Sherlock mumbled, trying to slow down his hand.

John sat up a bit and scooted closer. He leaned so his mouth was against Sherlock's ear. "Swipe your thumb firmly over the tip . . . you're leaking and it's really sexy."

"Oh god," Sherlock said with a low moan. He did what John suggested. "You're making it worse . . ."

"Better," John corrected, touching his thigh lightly. "You'll come so hard . . . let it build just a little more."

Sherlock tried to keep his hand moving slowly, but his hips were rocking against the bed. "What do I do?" he mumbled, not even sure quite what he was asking.

"We can try for longer next time. I want you to do what feels good . . . as hard or as fast as you need to so you can come . . ." John murmured, nipping and sucking at Sherlock's earlobe now.

"Will you kiss me?" Sherlock exhaled. His hand was moving a bit faster and his heart felt like it was pounding in his chest.

John kissed his way to Sherlock's mouth, licking into it to deepen the kiss as he felt Sherlock tensing beneath him. 

Sherlock closed his eyes as John kissed him and suddenly he was coming, his hips jerking against the bed. His free hand lost itself in John's hair, holding his head. And then he was breathing again as his body melted against the mattress.

"So sexy," John murmured, petting Sherlock's slightly heaving chest.

"Am not, I'm the same as I was yesterday," Sherlock said as he caught his breath. Even though he knew that wasn't quite true. "Besides . . . it's you, you are. You did this all to me."

"You were sexy yesterday as well," John smiled. 

"Be quiet," Sherlock said. Then he peeked over at John. "Does that mean you're going to do it again or are you all spent for the night?"

"Hmm . . . I could probably work this up more," he smiled, palming through his pants.

Sherlock turned on his side. "Can I watch you?" he asked softly.

John nodded, wishing they had done it together now. "Yeah, you can." 

Sherlock pulled the blanket away so he could watch all of John's body. "I know it's none of my business, but I don't want you to think about someone while you do it," he said softly.

"I'm thinking about you," John said. He pushed his pants out of the way and stroked properly.

Sherlock moved a little closer, lying at John's side now. Instead of watching John's hand, he gazed up at his face. He slid one of his own hands underneath John's t-shirt, letting it move softly over his chest. He'd never been so intimate with someone, he'd never even spent much time imagining it -- it was a little frightening but good.

John gazed down at Sherlock, already panting softly. "That feels good . . ."

"I like it all," Sherlock mumbled, pressing even closer. He let his fingers drift to John's nipple, feeling its hardness. He stretched his neck to suck lightly on John's ear as he'd done to Sherlock a few moments ago.

John huffed softly, his eyes fluttering shut as he stroked faster. "Talk to me," he murmured.

"I don't know what to say," Sherlock whispered. He squeezed John's nipple and then decided to try. "It's only you . . . all this. Your body, your hand. . . your mouth." He dipped his head and kissed John sloppily, pressing himself against John's hip.

John moaned into the kiss. "My mouth where?" he prompted.

"Just . . . on me," Sherlock said, kissing him again. He slid his hand down John's chest to his abdomen. He could feel the movement of John's own hand.

"On your cock?" John asked, looking at him again.

"John," Sherlock said, a little shocked. "Maybe . . ." he added, whispering. "Would you do something like that?"

John nodded. "I would," he murmured. "It feels good . . ." He was swiping over the tip, panting heavily now.

"Oh god," Sherlock moaned softly as he continued to kiss John's neck. He moved his hand down, placing it on top of John's as it stroked.

"Kiss me," John moaned, squirming on the bed now. Sherlock leaned over John's body, kissing him hard on the mouth. John groaned into the kiss as he came, bucking lightly into his hand, Sherlock's moving along with him.

Sherlock held onto John's wrist. "That was sexy," he said, smiling at John before kissing him again. "I just want to do that all the time now . . ."

"We need to sleep, but tomorrow we can try new things."

"What have you done to me, John Watson?" Sherlock asked, moving over. He took a sip of water and then said, "Let me get us a flannel." He slipped into the bathroom and cleaned himself up again, bringing a new damp cloth back for John.

"You asked for it," John smiled, cleaning himself off.

"You tricked me into it," Sherlock said. "At the start, I was just curious because I thought there might be a benefit. Little did I know you were set on turning me into a sex maniac." He climbed back into bed and took one more sip of water before snuggling down.

"You're hardly a sex maniac," John said. "Besides, I'm assuming you see the benefit now?"

"Maybe," Sherlock said. He rolled over and looked up at John. "Did you mean what you said? About the mouth thing, I mean?"

John nodded. "I'll do it tomorrow if you want."

"Is it. . . weird? Do you think I'll like it? The idea is . . . intriguing, I admit," Sherlock said.

"I like it," he said. "I think it feels good."

"Does that mean you'll want me to do it to you?" Sherlock asked.

"If you want to," John said. 

"Just . . . let's quit talking about it," Sherlock said. He didn't like thinking about someone doing it to John or John doing it to someone. He pushed lightly on John's arm. "I need to sleep. I can't keep doing sex things all night, you know?" He shifted to get comfortable, pressing one of his legs against John's.

"Yes, you should rest for the plans I have for you tomorrow," John smiled.

Sherlock smiled to himself as he started to drift to sleep. He hadn't expected any of this to happen, but so far at least, he didn't regret it.


	8. Revealing

In the morning John woke up looking at Sherlock, and that made him smile wide. Sherlock was still sleeping, and he took a moment to admire him. Then he got an idea, shifting carefully on the bed, careful not to wake him. He started touching Sherlock's cock, grazing his fingers over it.

Sherlock felt John's touch and opened his eyes. The memories of last night came rushing back. "John?" he mumbled. "Are you okay?" 

"Mhmm," John hummed before licking a long strip up Sherlock's cock.

"John, you're --" Sherlock started, but suddenly his brain didn't seem to work quite right. He wasn't even sure he was totally awake, and now his whole body went warm and a little shy but also eager. "John," he tried again but couldn't get any further with the rest of the sentence.

John sucked the head into his mouth, lapping at the tip before dipping down to take more into his mouth.

"Fuck, John, god," Sherlock moaned. He sat himself up a little on the bed to look down. "Fuck," he said again. "Do you . . . like it?" he managed to add before the feeling overwhelmed him again.

John hummed around Sherlock and took more, bobbing regularly now as he gazed up at Sherlock.

Sherlock let his head fall back as he tried to concentrate on his breathing. He couldn't. He lifted his head and look down at John again. "I need. . . you might have to stop for a few minutes," he said. "It's . . . too much . . ."

John pulled off to let him breathe, kissing his thigh.

"God," Sherlock said, rubbing his hand over his face. "You're going to kill me -- I don't think I'm getting enough blood to my brain." He smiled and then collapsed back on the bed again.

John smiled and nipped his thigh lightly. "It's good, huh?"

"It is," Sherlock said. "It's unusual." He looked down again. "Could you come back up here by me?"

John moved up and hovered over Sherlock, smiling down at him.

"You seem to have a lot of tricks up your sleeve," Sherlock said, smiling up at him.

John smiled. "Yes, and I intend to teach you all of them."

"Does that mean you want me to do that," Sherlock paused and glanced down the bed, "to you?"

"If you want to as well," he said. "I enjoy giving them as well as getting so we just have to see what you like."

"Don't talk about other times," Sherlock said, pulling John down next to him and burying his face in John's shoulder.

"Sorry," John said, bringing his hand up to pet Sherlock's hair. 

"I'll never have anyone else, John," Sherlock said. "I know you have but I don't want to be reminded." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Sherlock. I'm sorry I mentioned it," John said.

"It's all right . . ." Sherlock said. "Do you still want to keep doing . . . you know, sex-type things this morning?"

John nodded. "I'd like to finish what I started," he smiled.

"You mean, I'll do it . . . in your mouth? You'd want me to do that?" Sherlock asked. "I mean, I suppose I knew people did that kind of thing, but I didn't think . . . I'd be involved, I guess."

John smiled a bit wider. "Yes, I want you to do it in my mouth," he said. He licked his lips and started to move down again. 

Sherlock lay back and waited eagerly. John took him into his mouth again, bobbing slowly as he hollowed his cheeks. 

"It's unusual," Sherlock said softly. "It feels good but it's . . . different than my hand." He realised how stupid that sounded. "Obviously. . ."

John sucked harder, moving lower each time and rubbing Sherlock's thigh.

Sherlock separated his legs a bit and let his hips rock. "John, I know what you mean now . . . I can tell when it's going to happen," he moaned a little. "It's soon. . . "

John hummed around Sherlock again, lapping at the tip every time he came up.

"John!" Sherlock called much more loudly than he'd intended. His body jerked on the bed, and he was coming and his whole mind went blank for a moment. He finally opened his eyes and looked down at John. "My god," he mumbled and then fell back against his pillow.

John grinned and climbed up to peck his lips before lying back beside him. "Good morning."

"That was good," Sherlock said, slowly turning his head towards John. "Did you like it?"

"I did," John smiled.

"I don't know if I could do it," Sherlock mumbled. "I don't even know how to do it properly with my hand . .."

"That's okay. We'll take it slow," John said.

"It's not okay though," Sherlock said. "You said you liked someone doing it to you. That means other people have and . . ." 

"Sherlock, this is you and me now. Before this doesn't matter," he said.

"But that's easy for you to say because I don't have a before. You do," Sherlock said. "I feel entirely inadequate . . . I don't like it. . ."

"Sherlock, I promise it's okay. I don't want you to feel that way -- I don't think of it that way," John said. 

Sherlock pressed against John again. "I'm half naked and you've still got your pajamas on," he whispered.

"Let's get them off, then. I need you to help get me off," John said. "I'll talk you through it."

Sherlock glanced up. "Really?" he asked, his stomach feeling a mix of nerves as well as excitement.

John nodded. "Yeah," he smiled. "I'm hard from the blow job."

"Really?" Sherlock asked again. Once John's pants were off, he shifted a little closer and rested his hand on John's hip. "What do I do?"

"Hold me," John instructed. "Tightly."

Sherlock reached down and held John, wrapping his fingers a little more tightly than he'd done on himself. "I don't want to hurt you," he mumbled. "Should I move my hand now?"

"You're not. Swipe the tip so your hand will move a bit easier. Start slowly."

"It's wet," Sherlock said stupidly but quickly realised why and what John meant. He stared down at his hand and John's cock and then wondered if perhaps he shouldn't so he looked up at John's face. "Is it okay like this? Should I be doing something else?"

"Swipe again -- it needs to be slick," John said. He couldn't stop looking at Sherlock.

Sherlock kept his hand moving, swiping over the top and spreading the wetness. He looked down at John's face again. "Should I kiss you?" he asked.

John nodded. "And twist your hand as you move it."

Sherlock twisted his hand -- he couldn't remember if John had done that to him, but he knew he'd never done it to himself that way. He got a rhythm and then leaned down and roughly kissed John's mouth. "Sorry," he mumbled, pulling his head back. "I'm . . . excited again, I guess."

John smiled. "Good. Grip a little harder and move a little faster."

Sherlock did as John asked. He found his own hips rocking a bit with the movement of his hands. "Does it feel good? Is it right?" he asked, dropping down to suck on John's earlobe.

"Mhm," John mumbled. "Faster . . ."

Sherlock kept moving, faster and faster. "God, John, it's so . . ." he panted against John's ear.

"M'so close," John moaned, bucking into his hand.

"John," Sherlock said in a low growl. "I want to be the one who makes you come." His hand kept pumping John's cock, and he nuzzled John's neck, biting at his skin.

"Sherlock!" John gasped, clutching the bed as he came into Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock moaned as well, staying with John through his orgasm. He caught his breath and then lifted his head to look at John's face. "That was beautiful," he said. "Did I do it okay?"

"Perfect" John panted. "That growl . . . it was perfect."

"What growl?" Sherlock said. As he asked, he grabbed John's hand and pushing it towards his own hard cock. "Please. . . again," he added in a whisper.

"Your voice, at the end," John explained, starting to stroke Sherlock steadily. He looked up at his face. "Come on," he said. "We've done this a few times now. Tell me what you like. Tell me what you want."

Sherlock closed his eyes. John's touch felt so good. However, Sherlock still felt so woefully inexperienced, not even sure what other possibilities he could suggest John do. He look a deep breath and concentrated on the warmth filling his whole body. "I like the kissing . . ." he mumbled.

John kept stroking slowly as he leaned in and kissed Sherlock's mouth.

"It's good . . . slow," Sherlock tried to say into the kiss. "Don't stop." He lifted a hand to hold onto John's arm. John kept moving slowly, kissing Sherlock the whole time.

"More," Sherlock mumbled. He was starting to feel close already, his brain filled with images of John and the things they'd done together. John moved his hand faster, gripping a bit harder.

"Don't leave," Sherlock cried and then he squeezed closed his eyes and dropped his head against the pillow, his hips arching up as he came over John's hand.

John kept kissing Sherlock's mouth and jaw and temple as he shuddered lightly with waves of pleasure. "I'm not going anywhere," he murmured.

"What?" Sherlock asked and then shook his head softly as he tried to catch his breath. He shifted a little bit on the bed. His body felt heavy, like he was sinking into the bed. "We have to get up and do something at some point," he said a little suddenly. "I'll die if we stay here doing this. I kind of wouldn't mind, but we probably shouldn't."

"We need to eat," John said. "We need our energy."

"Maybe," Sherlock said. He lay still for a few more minutes. "I definitely need a shower," he said finally, pushing himself up.

"Definitely," John insisted. "You know we can do stuff in the shower as well, if you wanted to."

"John, we can't 'do stuff' all the time," Sherlock said in an exaggerated voice. "Can we? I mean . . . no, I have to take a break." He smiled.

"Then we will have lunch first, and shower after," John grinned. "You'll be so sexy all wet . . ."

Sherlock got up and headed to the kitchen, putting the kettle on. "You know that first time . . . when I caught you in the shower? Before that . . . did you do it everyday and I just never knew?" he asked as he waited for the water to boil.

John rummaged for some fruit and yoghurt. "Not every day," he said. 

"But you're already certain you can keep doing it, like a dozen times in a day? You're not worried you'll . . . I don't know, die?" Sherlock asked. He made the tea and pushed one mug toward John.

John laughed. "No, I am not worried I'm going to die," he said. 

"Might I?" Sherlock asked. "I suppose I'm only half joking . . . maybe my body won't be able to handle it."

"No one is going to die, love." John put the fruit on the table and smiled.

"But it's not just about not dying . . . we still have to live, you know, work and all that. You can't just make me do rubbing stuff all the time," Sherlock said, smiling stupidly.

"I could," John grinned. "But no, I suppose I won't."

Sherlock took a bite of fruit. "I'm going to go shower," he said and stood up.

"All right," John said. He took a big bite of an apple. He was still smiling.


	9. Confessing

Sherlock went into his bedroom and got some clean clothes. He glanced over at the bed and then headed into the shower.

"I expect you to eat more when I'm in the shower," John called out.

"I can't hear you," Sherlock called back before shutting the door and stepping into the shower. He washed his hair and then his body. When he touched his cock, he thought about the fact that John had touched it as well. John had even put it in his mouth. How had all this happened? Yes, it had all felt good but this was such a change, and Sherlock wondered if he should be more worried about it. He wasn't always good about dealing with the new. He turned off the water, dried himself off, and got dressed. He opened the door to let out some of the steam and called, "What were you shouting about?"

"Eat something! You're using a lot of energy. Please?" John asked, getting up to grab clean clothes.

"Possibly," Sherlock said, putting the kettle back on.

John went over to the shower, pointing at the fruit before he did.

Sherlock picked up banana and took it and a cup of tea into the bedroom. He set them both on the nightstand. He pulled the sheets from the bed and threw them into a pile before putting a new set on. Then he closed the curtains, took off his clothes and slid under the clean sheets. He stretched his legs and took a sip of his tea then ate the banana. He listened to the sound of the shower.

John washed off and came out fully dressed. The fruit appeared untouched on the table, but then he noticed that the last banana was gone. "Sherlock?" he asked, looking into the sitting room before going to the bedroom. "Oh, there you are. Why's it so dark?"

"Could you come here and get in the bed with me?" Sherlock asked softly.

John moved into the room, still looking around for a second. He took off his clean clothes and climbed into bed next to Sherlock.

Sherlock sat up. "Lie back," he said softly. "I need to check something." He moved down underneath the cover, settling in between John's legs.

"Can I see you?" John asked softly.

"When I've finished my investigation," Sherlock said from underneath the blanket. He curled himself up and leaned down so his face with close to John's cock. He used one hand to lift in, looking it over as he slowly began to rub it. He put a kiss on John's hip bone.

"Please," John murmured softly, keeping very still.

"Be patient," Sherlock said. "I'm a learner, don't forget." He moved even closer to John's cock, licking around his fingers as he held it firmly. John moaned softly and gripped the bed to keep still. Once Sherlock had covered the whole thing with licks, he moved his head so that he could put the whole tip into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around and then sucked lightly. He wanted to ask John if it was all right, but he also wanted to build his confidence and not feel so inexperienced. He could feel his own cock getting hard -- he hoped this is what John liked because it was clear he himself liked it this way.

John shifted lightly, trying not to writhe for more. "Sherlock, please can I see?" he asked breathlessly. 

"Fine," Sherlock said grumpily, but he went back to what he was doing. To be honest, it was getting quite hot under there. He waited for John to pull the blankets back. John did, lifting them to see Sherlock. He moaned loudly, biting his lip at the sight.

"Is it okay?" Sherlock finally asked without looking up.

John reached down and touched Sherlock's hair, petting softly. "Feels good," he said.

"I like it," Sherlock mumbled as he used his free hand to squeeze John's thigh.

John nodded. "You're doing well," he said.

Sherlock took more of John into his mouth, but not the whole thing. Although he was an eager learner, he was also really impatient and wanted to be touched as well. He pressed himself against the bed. "Do you want to do it into my mouth, like I did to you last night?" he asked, finally looking up.

"Fuck," John sighed. "Whatever you want," he said, looking down at Sherlock.

"Maybe . . ." Sherlock started as he lifted his head and grabbed for one of John's hand. "Maybe you could do it and I'll just kind of . . . be here and maybe . . . I could taste it?"

John nodded.

Sherlock shifted a little, leaning up on his elbow. "Can you just do it slow for a minute?" he asked, his voice a whisper. "So I can see better what you do." He let his hand rub John's thigh.

"Do what slowly?" John asked breathlessly.

"Touch yourself," Sherlock said. He let his own hand drift up between John's legs, lightly touching John's balls and inner thighs.

John wrapped his hand around his cock and moved it slowly. He was craving Sherlock's mouth again, but he didn't ask. 

"Oh god, John," Sherlock said, watching closely. He slid down and so he was lying by John's legs, pressing his whole body against him. He leaned in close, letting John's hand brush his cheek as it moved up and down. "You're so sexy. . ."

John closed his eyes. "Sherlock . . ." he moaned softly. 

Sherlock quickly shifted, folding himself up as he pushed John's legs apart and crawled between them. As John kept stroking himself, Sherlock nuzzled his thighs, sneaking his tongue up to lick John's balls and the area where his legs met his body. He moaned softly. A few days ago he had no idea what sexy was and now he knew this was it.

"I'm so close, Sherlock . . . please," John moaned, panting as his hand moved faster.

"Keep going, John," Sherlock said in a low voice. He moved his mouth closer, letting his tongue hit the tip and John's fingers as he stroked. John made a soft sound before his hand worked even faster. Suddenly he was coming, moaning Sherlock's name as he gripped the bed.

Sherlock's head jerked back instinctively when John started coming, but then he moved closer and some got on his face. He lightly ran his tongue over the tip to taste it and then put kisses on John's fingers before climbing up the bed, hovering his body over John's. "Do me now, please," he begged, kissing John's mouth. "I'm aching . . ."

John swallowed hard and took deep breaths, ignoring Sherlock for one second to let himself come down from the orgasm. He couldn't stop seeing it all in his head. Slowly he moved and gripped Sherlock's cock, turning on his side as he stroked. Sherlock dropped his head to John's neck, sucking the skin. He could hear small sounds coming out of his throat, but he couldn't stop himself. He lowered his hips a little and started to thrust against John's hand.

"There you go," John murmured, gripping tighter as they moved together.

"I can't . . ." Sherlock mumbled. "It's so good . . . it's confusing." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm going to . . ." he started to say and then all of a sudden he was coming hard into John's hand. John moved and kissed his mouth as Sherlock came, his hand still moving slowly as he finished.

Sherlock collapsed over John. "God," he mumbled. "John, this is all so much."

"I know, love," John said, holding him close.

"Do you?" Sherlock whispered, keeping his head tucked down as he shifted to John's side.

John nodded. "I do." He rubbed Sherlock's back as they lay together.

"Just because of this?" Sherlock asked.

"No, because of all of it," John said softly. "Everything."

"But . . . you do all this with people you don't . . . love, so . . ." Sherlock rambled. "It's okay if you don't but I think I might. . ."

John kissed his temple, his chest aching to hear it. "Think you might what?" he whispered.

"Love you," Sherlock mumbled.

John's arms tightened slightly, and he pressed his lips to Sherlock's temple again. "I love you, too."

Sherlock swallowed a little roughly, feeling some relief. "I think I might need a little rest again," he mumbled. "At least we got up and showered . . . we can be productive in a bit but I'd just like to stay like this for a short while, all right?"

John nodded. "This is nice," he agreed. He was petting Sherlock's hair again.

"It is," Sherlock mumbled as he closed his eyes. He didn't think he'd actually sleep, but he needed a little time in his head to think about what they'd just talked about. His newly discovered urges were one thing, but love? That was a whole other kettle of fish. And yet, it seemed true, it felt true. It was true.

John closed his eyes as they lay together. Sherlock loved him. A part of him knew that it might be the sex -- so many hormones were flooding Sherlock's head from all the orgasms -- but he chose not to think about that and just believe Sherlock wasn't lying. John wasn't lying.


	10. Negotiating

Sherlock snapped his eyes open. He wasn't quite sure how long he'd been gone and was aware that he might have possibly fallen asleep after all. "John," he said, clearing his throat a little to sound awake and lucid. "There's something else I'd like to try."

John opened his eyes. "What's that?"

"I know there's probably a lot of things I can't even think of that we could try and I'm sure I would like to do all of them," Sherlock said softly. "But now . . . well, I don't want you to show me anything else right now. Instead I'd like to . . . I'd like it to be normal, like we're just normal and maybe we could just do it to each other, more naturally, instead of like a lesson? I know I'm the one who's been asking you to teach me, but now . . . now I'd just like to do that instead. Okay?"

John shifted to look at him. "That's a good idea," he said.

Sherlock turned on his side. He slipped his hands to John's cheek, holding his face, as he gently leaned in and kissed his mouth. He shifted even closer as he did. John returned the kiss sweetly, holding Sherlock's chest lightly. Sherlock slipped one hand around John's body down to his lower back, pulling John closer to him. He tangled their legs together. He kissed him again. John licked into Sherlock's mouth, tilting his head and moaning softly.

"We'll just be how we were, right?" Sherlock mumbled into the kiss. "Except for all this and for the love stuff . . ."

John nodded. "Just how we were. Normal," he said.

Sherlock smiled and raised his eyebrows skeptically before kissing John again. He let his hand moved around John's body and gently held John's soft cock. John hummed softly, rolling into his hand. This time Sherlock didn't ask any questions. He started to lightly rub John's cock. He felt it start to stiffen in his hand. He pressed even closer. John melted into Sherlock's for a moment, enjoying that Sherlock was doing just as he pleased. It felt even better. He slid his own hand down to hold Sherlock, moving slowly.

"Feels good," Sherlock mumbled. His stroke got a little firmer as his other hand dropped to press against John's chest. He nipped at John's bottom lip before kissing him again, harder and hungrier this time. John could only moan his agreement, not wanting to pull away from the heated kiss.

Sherlock leaned in even closer, pushing John back almost flat on the bed. He moved his mouth to John's ear, nuzzling and sucking on the lobe. "Will you sleep in here from now on?" he whispered.

"Always," John said breathlessly, bringing his free hand around Sherlock.

"It feels different when you do it," Sherlock said, his voice a low moan now. "Better." He sucked on John's neck now as his hips started to rock in response to John's hand. John nodded, shifting to find his mouth again as his hand moved faster. Heat was building in his stomach and groin quickly.

"Don't stop," Sherlock called, his hips now thrusting steadily. It was hard to concentrate on what his own hand was doing when John's was making him so crazy, but he tried hard -- he wanted to be the one to make John feel this good.

John kissed down Sherlock's neck and back up to his mouth again. "Come with me," he murmured before he kissed Sherlock hard again, letting go himself and coming into Sherlock's hand. 

"Oh god," Sherlock moaned letting go to the sound of the words from John's mouth. His heart was racing, and he was breathing roughly as his body arched against John. John slumped onto the bed, his arm still wrapped around Sherlock so he was tugged close as they panted to catch their breath. 

"John," Sherlock exhaled as he dropped his hand to his chest. He took a deep breath and let it go.

"Yeah?" John said, closing his eyes for a moment. 

"You know how you've done these kinds of things with other people?"

John licked his lips lightly and nodded. 

"Well, I don't mean to sound unpleasant," Sherlock said softly. "But it's never really worked out, has it? I mean, they annoy you or you annoy them and then you break up and then you never see them again, right?"

John kept his eyes closed. "I suppose so," he mumbled. 

"That's not going to happen to us, is it?"

"I've known you for a while, I've known you well before this. I don't think that will happen to us," John said. 

"I need more assurance than that," Sherlock said.

"I don't know what you want me to say," John said.

"I'd like you to say that you consider the exchange of bodily fluids between flatmates a permanent legally binding contract and thus will never leave," Sherlock said, a small smile spreading across his face. "That's not too much to ask, is it?"

"Hmm . . . I suppose not," John said. "But I'm not bringing tea to bed."

Sherlock stretched a little. "That's fine," he said. "Though you should probably leave yourself some wiggle room in case you decide to change your mind." He turned his head to the side and looked at John as he said, "I love you, but we need to get up and live now."

John opened his eyes drowsily. "Few more minutes," he said, closing them again. "Love you too," he added

"Fine," Sherlock said. He moved to the edge of the bed. "I'll go get the tea this time but don't get used to it, all right?"

John tugged at Sherlock as he fought falling asleep. "Just stay . . ."

Sherlock lay back and stroked John's hair. "Don't worry," he said softly. "You've got me for good now, John Watson."


End file.
